


The Truman Show

by Pootin



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Paranoia, references to possible mental illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:40:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pootin/pseuds/Pootin
Summary: Leah wasn’t Leah anymore.Or maybe she was more herself than she’d ever been before.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	The Truman Show

**Author's Note:**

> If you have never seen The Truman Show and would like to, I'd suggest reading this after watching it. I kind of spoil the ending a little, plus it might make a bit more sense if you've seen the ending of the film!
> 
> Set just before Leah ran into the ocean in episode 9.

Leah rubbed at the back of her neck, barely grimacing at the flakes of sunburnt skin peeling off and sticking to the palm of her hand.

Her eyes flitted around the scenery before her, as though if she were fast enough she could catch a glimpse of a camera retreating within the rocks, or a mic planted in the sand. No, there was nothing in the sand. She’d checked thoroughly enough until her fingers were raw, the skin of her knees cracked and bleeding from hours of kneeling. 

The sand felt _off_ , the rocks seemed _hollow_ and Leah wasn’t _Leah_ anymore.

Or maybe she was more herself than she’d ever been before. It’d be a lie to say these...obsessive actions, these fixations were something new, a behaviour brought about by their desperate situation. There were hints of her tendencies in so many other occasions, like that time she had bailed on a sleepover halfway through the night. Not in the way young kids normally do but in a desperate way where she’d convinced herself something bad would happen if she wasn’t at home. The idea had grown like a tumor, benign at first until it took up every inch of space in her brain. She’d slept soundly in her own bed, safe in the knowledge that nothing would occur, and nothing had occurred. 

She ground her teeth together, finding her jaw already as tense as it could be. Leah retracted her hand from her nape and started massaging her jaw instead, it was useless but the gesture helped in some small way. It was a distraction from the overbearing urge to pick at her skin, pick at anything that could be pulled. Her eyebrows had already suffered the worst of it, thinning in some spots. 

She felt painfully stiff, each muscle in her body wound up like the string of a bow, tightened until the inevitable _snap_ under all of the stress. Leah had snapped some time ago, perhaps before she’d stepped foot onto the plane, maybe even before _he_ had entered her life.

Or maybe she had just been born broken. Born an instrument that was always out of tune. Discordant and off beat.

Leah flopped backwards onto the sand and stared up into the sky. Sometimes she’d squint at the sun and imagine it wasn’t _really_ the sun, though this was more of an influenced thought from 'The Truman Show' than any substantiated suspicion. It’d been years since she had last seen the film, but the memories of how it had affected her were as clear as ever.

She scoffed pitifully as she remembered the mild paranoia her ten year old self had suffered through. Of course, the idea had been debunked quickly. There were no cameras hidden in her room (she had taken her room apart to the displeasure of her mother) and the world was far too large for it all to have been about her.

But this place, this mass of land they’d found themselves on, the coincidentally useful bags that washed up on shore all felt... _deliberate_. 

She felt a bit like Jim Carrey on this island. One person out of the loop whilst everyone around her deceived her. Leah was losing her grasp on herself, whilst simultaneously uncovering the very core of her being, and it terrified her more than the prospect of dying in this place. The idea that she’d make it back home, and would have to live truly knowing herself. 

She stretched her hand out in front of herself and through splayed fingers envisioned a suffocating curve encasing them all. If she stared hard, _really_ stared hard, she could see the facade of this place blurring in the distance. 

Maybe if she swam far enough out into the ocean, she would reach the edge of the dome. 

Leah would walk up the sky blue stairs. 

And she would open the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Leah is an interesting character that, in some minor ways, I can relate to so I felt compelled to explore her thoughts. I don’t expect many people to read this but honestly, had a lot of fun writing it so it was worth it! This short and more introspective writing style suits me better.
> 
> Appreciate every kudos and comment left, thanks for reading :)


End file.
